Meeting The Bosses
by katreeny
Summary: A series of one-shots of the first meetings of various bosses with their nations. First up, Chancellor Merkel meets Germany and Prussia


The newly-elected Chancellor of Germany couldn't help wondering why her predecessor insisted that she end a long, tiring day – mostly of party negotiations, to build a governing coalition – with an informal handover 'ceremony' in what would soon be her office in the Chancellery. In all her years in politics she'd never heard of any such thing – but she'd never been quite at this level either.

The large room with its floor to ceiling glass windows looking out over the lights of Berlin was stiffly formal despite the attempts to make it less so – post-modernist architecture usually failed on that front: she sympathized with those who nicknamed the building the 'elephant loo' – but perhaps more startling was the fact that it was occupied and Chancellor Schroder didn't seem the least bit concerned.

The two men who rose to greet them had to be related, she thought. Though one was slightly shorter than the other, their facial features were all but identical, and if the shorter man hadn't had distinctively albino white hair and too-pale skin – good lord, his eyes were actually _red_ – he would have easily passed for the other.

"Madam Chancellor," Schroder said with a hint in his voice that he was more than happy about whatever this was. "Allow me to introduce our national avatars. Germany,"

The taller one – he had slicked-back blond hair, blue eyes, and could have stepped right out of an East German recruiting poster, or one from further back – stepped forward.

She extended her right hand automatically, too shocked to protest.

The man's grip was firm, his manner direct. "It is an honor, Madam Chancellor." His voice was deep, with a coldness to it that made her want to shiver.

The weight of years behind those ice-blue eyes was something she had to fight.

Schroder's voice took on a certain weariness. "And his brother, Prussia."

Before she could protest that Prussia no longer existed, the other man – who wore a deep blue version of the Inspector-General's uniform – stepped forward and bowed, taking her extended right hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles in a gesture that was somehow more challenging than romantic. "Madam Chancellor," he said, his voice oddly rough, as though he'd spent years abusing it until the baritone became harsh, scratchy. "Congratulations. You've made a good start."

She blinked, and in that moment the pale man straightened and winked at her, a wicked grin transforming his face into something wild, primal.

His brother rolled his eyes. "I would apologize for my dear brother's behavior, but I fear it would do no good," he said in a dry voice.

Finally, she found her voice. "Chancellor Schroder, really. What _is_ this?" She hadn't taken Schroder for the type to set up elaborate practical jokes.

A wholly uncharacteristic smile crossed the older man's face. "Exactly what I told you, Chancellor Merkel. I've had the 'joy' -" The sarcasm there could have melted steel. "- of dealing with them for the last seven years. Now they're your responsibility." With that, he collected a small box of what she presumed were personal items, and left her to deal with the men he'd called 'Germany' and 'Prussia'.

Prussia made a rude noise. "Arse," he muttered.

Germany only sighed. "You did steal his underwear and fly it from the Bundestag flagpole."

"Only because he dared me to."

"Only you would call that a dare."

Angela Merkel, Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany, dropped into the nearest chair without concern for protocol or manners. "Excuse me."

Both men stopped their bickering and turned to face her.

"I would like an explanation, gentlemen." Her voice hardened a little. "_Now_."

#

Chancellor Merkel now understood why her predecessor was so eager to pass these national avatars on to her. Both were... well, the embodiment of their people. Precisely how the Federal Republic of Germany had come to have two quite different embodiments – but weirdly similar too, she noticed as they talked. Their gestures, their body language... all so similar that with hair dye and contacts Prussia could pass as Germany – was a complex thing going back to the formation of the German Empire with detours through the Preussenschlag and the post-war partitioning. It was something she didn't want to investigate too closely: the way the brothers glossed over certain aspects of that time told her they found it deeply painful to remember it.

More than that, they were the best and worst of the German people, writ larger than life. Germany, the younger of the two, had the stoic obedience and diligence. Prussia had the fire that had marked the Prussian people until they'd been assimilated into Germany – a fire that had ultimately been essential to bringing down the East German regime. Where Prussia would fight control, Germany would submit to it – and that could so easily be disastrous. _Had_ been disastrous, in the 1930s.

"I presume there are others like you?" It took nearly two hours to reach that question, two of the most unnerving and disturbing hours Merkel had ever endured.

Germany gave the faintest of smiles, and Prussia grinned. "Oh, there are lots of us. One for each nation, mostly, although there are two Italies, and Britain has England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. England usually represents them, though." His red eyes gleamed. "North Italy, Italy Veneziano, he's here a lot, visiting Germany. He'll feed you pasta and chirp at you, but he's sweet and easy to get on with."

Germany flushed. "Do you _mind_?"

"Not at all." Prussia's grin widened. "Russia's big and creepy. He's always got this blank little smile – but if you do something nice for him, he melts."

Germany winced.

Merkel most emphatically did not want to know.

That didn't protect her. "I drop by his place every now and then and give him sunflowers," Prussia added. "He's kind of like the big clumsy kid everyone thinks is a bully, because he doesn't realize he's too big for everyone else so he accidentally breaks them."

If that was supposed to be reassuring, it failed.

"Brother, you are not helping." Germany appeared to agree. He pinched the bridge of his nose as though trying to ward off a headache. "You will likely meet most of the other avatars at your first international event, Madam Chancellor," he said. "They will be on their best behavior -" A quick glare at his brother. "- although I have to admit that isn't saying much."

Prussia's laughter sounded like someone crossed a hiss and a snicker and tried to hack it to pieces. The sound was simultaneously unnerving and amusing. "What my awesome little brother means to say is France will feel you up, Spain will offer you tomatoes, Italy Romano will threaten you if you don't take them, Ukraine will pop a button or two -"

"Brother!" Germany blushed a spectacular dark red. "That is most inappropriate."

Prussia waggled his right hand. "No, that's just normal." He grinned. "See, all of us have been around long enough to know each other pretty well, and we kind of like the way things are at the moment, where there's no big wars and we've mostly stopped trying to seize each other's vital regions except in a personal kind of way."

Germany looked pained.

Merkel frowned a little. "Don't explain 'seizing vital regions'. Just get to the point."

The grin broadened, and Merkel had the oddest feeling that Prussia approved of her. "So we know how far we can push, and we do. It might look like there's a small war going on when we get together, but it's mostly friendly."

"By which my brother means the damage is limited to minor injuries and very little property damage," Germany added with a forbidding frown.

Merkel considered that. Even though the whole concept was just too bizarre, she was aware of the two of them as more than merely human. They felt solid, like old friends she'd known all her life and trusted implicitly. She'd have to examine that later, when she was more able to focus. "Precisely what is entailed by 'minor' injury to a more or less immortal being?"

Prussia laughed softly, a low rumble of a sound. "We can walk away from it, most of the time." He gestured expansively. "We heal fast, and it takes more to damage us in the first place."

"Dare I ask what the cleaning bills are like?" she asked with more than a little sarcasm. She might have avoided politics in her youth, preferring to escape the stifling Communist rule by studying physics and chemistry, but she did know how difficult it was to clean blood from wood and carpet – mostly thanks to childhood accidents.

Prussia laughed, and Germany looked faintly embarrassed. "The Office of the Chancellery has a dedicated fund for any... accidents that might occur when we host international events," he said. "Our salaries come from that same fund, so even my reckless brother has an incentive to avoid causing too much trouble."

Merkel recognized his tone: the fond exasperation she'd heard from her parents when she'd done something particularly foolish. She decided not to press that point, and asked instead, "So what do you actually _do_?"

Prussia's grin sharpened a little. "Officially or otherwise?"

Germany cuffed him lightly, and shook his head. "We advise your Cabinet and bureau heads on policy matters. We are also required to sign off on any legislation or regulation affecting the nation as a whole."

Prussia made a sour face. "Which is _not_ a rubber-stamp, no matter what the fucking Commies thought."

"Prussia!"

Merkel waved off Germany's attempted apology before he could speak. "I quite understand the sentiment." She frowned then. "When I was Deputy Speaker in the transitional government, I'm sure I sure you around..."

"Would this help?" Prussia slumped, his posture becoming more huddled, and the sense of presence about him shrank, making him look inconspicuous. Then he straightened again.

"Yes, I _did_ see you!" He didn't look a day older, either.

"That was 'East'." Prussia's sarcasm could have melted steel. "The persona I used until we reunified." He slung an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Sweet, meek, obedient little rubber-stamp – who was working behind the scenes the bring the bastards down."

That sounded, well... Prussian. The adherence to principle, the desire to do what was _right_ rather than what was convenient or safe. It all tied to what she recalled of the old Prussian virtues. "I presume that means you review the documents before signing."

"Oh, yes." Prussia's red eyes lit with glee. "And send 'em back with comments if they aren't good enough."

Germany nodded. "My brother's commentary can be somewhat... blunt."

"Tch. Diplomacy is for enemies, you know that, brother." Prussia made a sweeping gesture with his free hand. "If they aren't up to the job they shouldn't be doing it."

Merkel decided this was not the time to find out what these brothers considered adequate. She suspected the knowledge would give her more than one headache during her time as Chancellor. "And your work arrangements?" she asked instead.

Germany replied. "We share an office in the Reichstag building, which we use when the Bundestag is in session. At other times we work from our home in Berlin. You should already have our contact information in your computer here. It will no doubt be on file as well so you can add it to your personal devices. For crises we are on call at all times."

Neither seemed to regard that as anything unusual, although Merkel did wonder how they relaxed. She had no intention of asking. "I see."

"We also advise you on matters regarding Germany's future and direction," Germany continued. "We are both equally able to handle any matters of state." His eyes narrowed a little. "I recommend you listen to my brother's advice on strategic and logistical matters. He has no equals in that field."

"That's because I'm just that awesome," Prussia put in.

Germany rolled his eyes. "Yes, brother. You are." He returned his attention to Merkel. "Under normal circumstances I handle most of the internal affairs, and my brother handles military, police, secret service, and international affairs."

Markel swallowed. The man was a walking diplomatic incident...

Prussia did that weird hissing snicker thing. "You should see your face, Chancellor."

"On the whole, I would rather not."

He grinned, and winked. "Oh, I can play the diplomatic game as well as anyone. The thing is, the other avatars, they all think they know what to expect from me." Now there was a feral edge to his smile. "So I give them what they expect."

Germany's dry chuckle failed to be reassuring. "One last thing, Chancellor. We serve you because you are the elected representative of the people of Germany. Do not abuse that."

#


End file.
